Those lost at sea and never found

I've been hanging laundry on a line in our large backyard. See?

Yesterday as I took laundry off the line, our neighbor, a woman close to seventy years old, hollered across the yard with an offer to let me use her dryer. I thanked her and explained that I had a dryer in good working condition, but I'm using the line to cut our energy usage and our electric bills. She persisted. I respectfully declined and changed the subject by asking her how she was.

Since I'm home all the time, she invited me to join her coffee in the mornings. That was nice of her. Then she told me how she switched doctors and had to lose twenty pounds so she could stop taking all the medication she's on. I could relate to the weight issue even though I'm not on any medications at the moment.

Then she hit me with it - why don't I start going to church with her on Sundays? Shit, people, this is why I don't leave the house. The dreaded god conversation. I hate smiling and nodding when people talk about god because I feel like a phony, but I'm not a confrontational sort so I do what I can to cut short conversations like this.

I had lunch with a new friend the other day and when I asked her how she ended up in our small town, she said a friend lived here and helped her find a place because god knew what he was doing. She belonged here. I smiled and nodded.

Why do believers feel compelled to say things like this? Believe what you want, but can't you keep it to yourself? I'm not interested in changing your mind or ridiculing you so I bite my tongue when bad things happen and people thank god for helping them through the adversity. I'd love to point out that the better god would be the one who keeps the adversity from happening in the first place. But I remain silent to be polite.

My new friend asked me how we ended up here in our tiny niche in the Appalachian foothills. My answer was simple, "My job." I could have added something about my epic bad judgment, but I kept that to myself. Either way, no god was getting credit or blame.

When we first moved here, I drove my car fast across the ridge and had the distinct feeling of riding a horse. I could feel the piston action of its strong legs, the wind in my hair even as I drove with the windows rolled up tight against the morning dampness. The feeling was so powerful that I considered whether I'd returned to a place I'd been before, in another life, or was it some genetic coding that drew me back? I had ancestors who'd come from Tennessee and Kentucky, so why not some north Georgia connection? How else to explain the random displacement of our family from Illinois to this tiny burg in rural Georgia?

But I never told anyone about that. Except MathMan and he's paid to listen to my crazy ramblings. I've seen the checks from my parents. There's not much daylight between my kooky ideas and your socially accepted beliefs so why don't we all just tick a lock on that kind of conversation? There's plenty to talk about without discussing the supernatural.

Plus, I do believe in completely random things. As much as I'd love to believe that everything happens for a reason - an incredibly romantic notion, my mental makeup won't allow it. I am incapable of absolutism, of pure faith. Things just happen. Some things can't be explained now or ever.

But here I was again, in the uncomfortable position of having to explain myself. I swatted at the mosquitoes buzzing me. "Oh, thanks, but we don't go to church."

"What do you mean you don't go to church? You can come with us."

Time to pull the Jew card, my first line of defense before tossing out the agnostic and then atheist cards.

"We're Jewish."

"You can still come to church. We have a nice Jewish rabbi who comes and writes things backward, but he writes them in English, too, so we can read them. He even reads from the Bible."

Would it be worth it to explain the difference between Messianic Jews aka Jews for Jesus and Just Jews?

"Oh, thanks, but I don't really want to....he's what's called a Messianic Jew." I smacked my arm and flicked away the dead insect.

"So? He wears one of those little hats, a yarmulke."

"Well, he believes something different from us."

"But he's a Jew."

"There are different types of Jews. See, he's comfortable in your church because, like you, he believes that Jesus is the Messiah." That should do it.

"Yes. Right. So?"

No escaping it. This would cancel out all invitations - not a bad thing as it turned out. "We don't believe Jesus is the savior."

She was quiet for a moment. "Oh. Well, those mosquitoes are eating you up. You better get inside."

What kinds of conversations make you wish you could walk the world cloaked in invisibility?

Adventures in Real Parenting: I'd Sell My Soul for a Jelly Donut

Or a lifetime's supply of grape KoolAid.

Picking up the story from yesterday....

Nate arrived home from school. I actually got up off my ass and greeted him with a breezy "Hi! How was your day?"

Now the trick here, as many of you know, when you're dealing with this kind of animal in the wild, you don't want to make any sudden movements. The fourteen year old male wishes to remain invisible unless he's in need of clean sweatpants, that jacket you told him fifteen times already to pick up and hang on the coatrack or he's got a desire for sustenance and he doesn't want to turn off the video game and fetch some.

So I didn't follow him around or get all up in his grill. I accepted with measured enthusiasm his reply of "Fine." I stood at the top of the stairs and watched as he tossed his backpack into the corner, yanked off his North Face and jammed his earbuds back where they belong. I remained there until he appeared settled, the remote control in one hand, the iPod Touch in the other.

Step one = accomplished.

I went to my office and waited approximately eight minutes, at which time, I stood, took a deep breath and headed for the living room. I felt like I was preparing for a turn in the Cage. I swept through the room, not making eye contact (very important) and puttered around in the kitchen for a few seconds before calling out, "Does anyone need anything from in here?"

Sophia, who was ensconced on the love seat under a throw was just waking from her little catnap. Were she not asleep, young master Nathan wouldn't have been able to pinch the remote without a fight. Sophia has learned to hide it under her butt or a convenient throw cover. "I'm good. I had a hotdog when I came home."

It was true, she had. I could see the evidence on the kitchen table. The paper plate with the horrifying grease spot, the ketchup bottle resting upside down to cut down on that splat of liquidy stuff that just ruins things. She seemed to have some innate sense that she was not the focus of our current parenting angst and thus was willing to provide certain services for herself. She perhaps understood that compared to the brouhaha surrounding her brother, her negotiations for things would be just more wasted energy. She's a smart girl like that.

I waited for Nate to answer, but none came. I poked my head around the kitchen wall. Oh, yes, that's right. He had the earbuds in. (At this point, a thinking person might wonder why he's listening to music and has control of the remote. I have no answer except to say that, like me, sometimes he prefers to watch the action on television without having to hear the inanity of it all.)

Nathan removed his earbuds and looked steadily at me. "Did you need anything from the kitchen?" I tried to keep just the appropriate amount of cheer in my voice without being too over the top or without giving off the vibe that I would be annoyed if he did make a request.

"Nah, I'm good."

I went about reheating the chicken noodle soup from a couple nights previous. I had some, Sophia had some. Nathan, our pickiest eater, went into the kitchen and foraged for this and that. He came out with an array of things that I preferred to ignore. Choose your battles, choose your battles....

There were some negotiations between the children about what to watch on the television and then we all settled into our chosen spots to stare at the flickering screen and shovel food down our gaping maws.

Typically, and I'm a bit embarrassed to admit this, I would simply retreat to my own room to eat in peace and watch some old movie on TCM while leaving them to chew the carcass of what ever poor beast they've brought down in front of programs such as Cake Boss or It's My Wedding and I'll Spend Myself and You into Oblivion for It If I Want To. I'm fighting battles enough with food these days. I don't want my dinner hour punctuated by tearful spoiled brides to be or my appetite stoked by Buddy and his obscene cake porn. Mmmmmm cake.......

But last night, I remained in the room and watched the DVR'd South Park (again with the South Park) so that I could enjoy the pleasure of the company of my two children. Chloe, as you may remember, has left the show. She now makes only occasional appearances as the college-aged daughter. MathMan is supplementing his salary as a baseball coach. So there we were, we three, enjoying our meal in front of South Park. I was just about to get seconds on the soup, which I did not need, when Michael Jackson's nose fell off. I don't care if it is a cartoon. That was enough for me.

I deposited my bowl into the dishwasher and sauntered back into the living room. This time, I sat next to Nate, again with a minimum of eye contact, and leaned back on the sofa to enjoy the rest of the program. He lay down and propped his feet on my legs. I took that as a good sign.

"So, what's on your agenda tonight?" Oh, tactical error. Too, um, momlike. Shoot. Did I blow it?

"Lots of homework. I'm supposed to go play basketball at T's house and then I have to work on my research paper." His eyes never left the television, but I was fully aware that he'd not mentioned church. Not once. And it was Wednesday night.

"So no church?" I was willing to risk it. I didn't want to push, but I didn't want him to think I'd forgotten.

"Nah."

I noticed that Sophia was taking it all in. She was being cool about it, of course, as is her way, but all of her angst receptors had swiveled in our direction while her eyes stayed glued to the t.v. waiting for the scene where you actually get to hear Kenny's voice and see him without his hood.

"I'm sooo thirsty." Ah, the plaintive bleatings of a child who wants something, is fully capable of providing for himself, but is still unwilling to rise from the sofa and produce.

"There's KoolAid." I wanted to be helpful, but I didn't want to tip my hand too soon. I was thinking back to someone's comment about the church's enticements of cookies and other delectable refreshments.....

"A'right." He didn't move.

"Would you like for me to make you some KoolAid?" I looked at him directly this time. If I was going in for the kill, then I was going to have to make sure that I was aiming directly at the target. If I'd had a tail, it would have been swishing back and forth, back and forth.

"Would you? That'd be cool." He returned my gaze. Was he going to dodge me?

"Hey, let's make a deal. I'll make you KoolAid and you stop calling yourself a Christian." Would he take me seriously?

He froze. I counted silently while I waited. He was considering this. Five, Six, Seven....

"A'right." He smiled.

"Really?" Was this a trap? Was I about to get hoisted on my own petard?

"Yeah, really. The whole thing's pretty stupid anyway."

He's as capricious as his mother. I cannot say otherwise. But this gave me hope that we're on the right track. He's got my attention. Those people who want to influence him without my knowledge or consent are going to have to wait a little longer. I'll spend every Wednesday night watching programs of his choice if I have to. But I promise you and him this - they won't get to muck around in his head without going through me first.

Adventures in Real Parenting: Not With My Son, You Don't

I am troubled.

Wait. You already know that, don't you? Let me begin again.

If I have a soul, and that's a big IF, it is troubled.

Parenting conundrum. The thinky kind. What a pain in the brainpan.

Remember in the old days how kids would hide porn mags under their mattress? Well a couple of weeks ago, I found a bible like thing under Nate's mattress.

You see, Nathan has been going to Wednesday evening youth group at the local Baptist church. At first, I assumed it was social. I was fine with him going with the group to feed the homeless a couple of weeks ago. I fully support the good works that the church, any church, does.

However.

I mentioned the bible-ish thing to MathMan who reacted with a touch of horror. He wasn't that thrilled with my cavalier attitude about Nate going to the Wednesday evening things at the church and now here was the direct result of that insouciance I'd displayed. I'd dropped the parenting ball.

The other day, MathMan, Nate and I were riding in the car when MathMan very casually asked,"So are you a Christian now?"

And Nate replied simply, "Yes."

Screeeeeeech!!!! What? Wait. What?

I asked him yesterday what being a Christian meant. He couldn't really answer me. Uh huh.

I know many of you are Christians and you have to know that this is not a personal attack on your religion, but, um, NO. No, no, no, no, and NO.

And for those of you thinking "well, there could be worse things," I beg your patience. Of course, there could be worse things, but this cuts at the heart of the parenting role for me.

We've raised our kids in a culturally Jewish household. By that I mean, I was raised in a Protestant home, but I am not a believer at all. Attending church was a punishment for being a pill during the week. We were not regular attendees, by any stretch. And my parents were never ever ever part of the in-crowd clique that every church seems to have.

To tell you the truth, I am incapable of that kind of suspension in reality. I wouldn't want to worship the god that some people talk about. Wait, scratch that. The whole idea of worship is foreign to me. I am areligious. Kind of like asexual. Faith? What's that? MathMan, who doesn't talk about god and such, was raised as a Jew. We have identified as Jews for the kids' entire lives, when pressed.

While it is true that when we moved to Georgia, we did not seek out a Temple nor did we continue with the religious/cultural education of our children, I certainly do not approve of the brainwashing my son appears to be undergoing. I repeat, brainwashing.

Rumor has it, he's been "saved." From what? Don't bother answering that. I think it's all a pile of wishful thinking. You die, you're dead. End of discussion for me. And for now, for my kids. When they are adults and capable of understanding what they are buying into, then they can decide for themselves.

I've been turning it over in my head - why is this bothering me so much?

Here's the thing. I would never bring my friends' kids to my house to share with them my beliefs or lack thereof. I would never dream of telling the children of other people what they should believe. That is completely inappropriate.

So now I'm between a rock and hard place. (Note: I'm writing and speaking for me only. I'm not speaking for MathMan.)

"Nate, I want to tell you something. I'm not angry. I'm not attacking you, but I need to say this."

"Okay."

"How do you think (name deleted)'s mom or (name deleted's) mom would feel if I invited their kids over here every Wednesday night so that I could 'share' with them how my way of life, my way of believing or not believing in my case is the best way. How do you think those moms would feel?"

"Bad."

"And how do you think all of this is making me feel?"

"Bad."

I hate this part of being a parent. I don't want this to be about me, but you know what? It is. I am this child's (and at 14, he's still a child) mother. I have tried to be broad minded. I've let him be exposed to different avenues of thought. I figured that it wouldn't hurt him, but now I'm not so sure. The fact that within a couple of weeks, he's been persuaded to "join" this kind of thinking, this belief system that runs counter to mine is not something I'm happy about. Of course, when what one is defending is a lack of belief, it's kind of hard to go up against something that promises you that you can do whatever you want and still go to heaven as long as you're "saved" and agree to hate the right people (that's the Baptist angle, at least).

Sophia is concerned. She's getting second hand the information about what's being done to Nate at these church things. I asked her what it all means, because Nathan is reluctant to talk about it now. She tells me that their mutual friends interpret "saved" as carte blanche (my word, not hers - she's sophisticated for an 11 year old, but not that sophisticated.)

Here's her take on things. "I think Nate is at an age where he just wants to fit in." And, of course, she's right. I completely understand. But what if this isn't like the skateboarding fad? Or the skinny jeans? Or the redneck look that swept some segments of his crowd? What then?

Sorry, Christian friends, but this is when I have to be honest with you. This whole affair smacks of cultism. Just because you belong to an "acceptable" cult, doesn't make it any less of a cult. The minute this kid starts "believing in creationism," we'll be conducting a full on intervention. I mean, INTERVENTION.

See - here's the thing, again. I don't tell you what to believe. I simply want my nonbelief to be respected. I don't go out and hold meetings trying to convince people to not believe. I suppose I'm more a humanist than anything. I do believe that people can know and practice the difference between right and wrong without any religious overlay to their actions. I don't need the promise of reward or punishment to keep me from doing or not doing things. And no, I'm not afraid to not believe. I don't feel a void. The thing is - were I to pretend to believe, isn't that just as hypocritical as anything you can imagine? If god is as omniscient as y'all say, then he's going to know I'm lying anyway. Look - even as I little kid, the whole praying thing seemed silly to me.

But I would never tell you that you shouldn't do what you want with your own spirituality or whatever you call it. Understand? Now please, grant me the same.

Here's what I don't like about this.

1. It's disrespectful to MathMan and me as Nathan's parents. My permission for him to attend the social functions was not permission for these people to "save" him or baptize him.

2. It creates a rift within our household. This boy, with very little education as to what it all means and with no communication with his parents at all, has been encouraged to deny his family's belief systems and values.

For example: When he was telling us about a talk they'd had about sex and he used the word "shame." Oh no. Sorry. We're not going there. Shame and sex are not to be mixed together. That's pure bullshit stuff right there. Sex is a biological function. Yes, there are moral aspects, but the aspects I'm far more concerned with are practical. STDs, pregnancy, etc. Shame? No.

That's the kind of head game nonsense we've never played with our kids. I would never approach such a serious topic with such a weak argument. Shame? Oh, please. Let's deal with reality. You don't want a baby now, if ever, and you definitely don't want to get sick. Those are reasons enough for not fucking around. Literally. Shame can be dealt with quite easily when you're saved. I'm sorry I did it. Boom! Problem solved because I'm saved! That baby? It's yours. You are stuck with it. Herpes? HIV? Yeah, pray that away, sugarplum.

Look - I don't even approve of our kids using the words 'whore' or 'slut' when talking about sex. Those words are reprehensible. They are shaming bullshit words that have no place in real discussions of sex. That's how seriously I take this part of the religion stuff. That part harms far more than it helps.

3. We are still this child's parents, but since he's been under this new influence of youth ministers, etc., I've gotten a distinct feeling of distance from him. MathMan thinks it's typical teenage boy stuff and perhaps it is, but I am worried. I don't like it.

The bottom line is this - for those of you who follow a religion that recruits - back off. You may think you're helping people, but I don't see it that way at all. Let people come to you if they want. But this business of recruiting teens? Stop it. They are highly vulnerable to the social aspects of what you do. Meanwhile, you're sucking them into something that they are not able to fully understand. So not cool.

Doesn't your bible list those commandments? And isn't one of them to honor the father and the mother?

Well, then, please do that.

Rant probably not over.

On The Separation of Church and Facebook

Warning to the fainthearted and easily offended. This post contains sexist positions (not sex positions, sexIST positions) and a random tweak to the nipples of organized religion. Or two.


I recently received an email from a friend who was incensed that a Facebook friend of hers was promulgating what is likely some made up "pledge," penned - or so the story goes - by a kid in Ohio. Here it is in the point size it deserves:

Written by a 15 yr. old School Kid in Ohio :
New Pledge of Allegiance
A Kid in Ohio wrote-

NEW School prayer : Now I sit me down in school Where praying is against the rule For this great nation under God Finds mention of Him very odd. If Scripture now the class recites, It violates the Bill of Rights. And anytime my head I bow Becomes a Federal matter now. Our hair can be purple, orange or green, That's no offense; it's a freedom scene... The law is specific, the law is precise. Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice. For praying in a public hall Might offend someone with no faith at all. In silence alone we must meditate, God's name is prohibited by the state. We're allowed to cuss and dress like freaks, And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks.. They've outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible. To quote the Good Book makes me liable. We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen, And the 'unwed daddy,' our Senior King. It's 'inappropriate' to teach right from wrong, We're taught that such 'judgments' do not belong. We can get our condoms and birth controls, Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles. But the Ten Commandments are not allowed, No word of God must reach this crowd. It's scary here I must confess, When chaos reigns the school's a mess. So, Lord, this silent plea I make: Should I be shot; My soul please take! Amen

My friend suggested I might blog about it because she knows that the separation between church and state is an issue about which I have strong feelings. Amen to that, I said.

I mulled it over because I wasn't sure if I had anything new or interesting to say on the subject and because I told y'all that I was taking it easy on the blogging. But then, and wouldn't you know it, MathMan hit me with the same kind of issue. He'd already unfriended a family member on Facebook because she had posted some ghastly anti-choice stuff. Apparently not taking the hint, she sent him a new friend invitation. He mentioned it in passing and I pounced on the opportunity to demonstrate my online savvy.

"Well, my policy is to just hide the status and posts of people whose political opinions irritate me," I offered. MathMan loves when I offer unsolicited advice, it's so not obnoxious.

After our usual slap-fight, he thought about it some more and eventually accepted his relative's re-friend invitation.

A couple of days later, he was wondering again what the hell is wrong with this person. This time she sent him an invitation to become a fan of the Creation Museum.

"WTF? ( - we often use text-shortened acronyms with each other * - )" was the subject line when he forwarded his email invitation to me. After I got done ROTFLMAO, I called him. Wiping tears from my eyes, I asked what he was going to do. He was still wildly indignant. "She is oblivious! We're the Jewish branch of the family and she's sending this to me?!?!"

I tried to be serious. "Well, maybe she's thinking that the Creation Museum is celebrating your Old Testament god and so of course you'd want to be a fan!" I am such the cheerleader when it's not my feathers that are ruffled.

I'd pretty much decided that this relative of his is either hardcore testifying and determined to spread the word no matter who might be offended or she is the village idiot's sister. Either way, MathMan's patience was being sorely tested and I must offer support.

"How about three strikes and you're out?" I offered, once again, behaving like so many men in my life - offering advice when none was requested. You heard me - it's a very male thing to want to solve the problem when all the partner wants to do is vent. You know when you're about to start a sentence with something like "Well, you should just....." or "You need to....." or "Just (fill in solution here)....", the smartest thing you can do is shut your yap. But do we ever do it? Nope. We just go on scratching our balls and shooting off our mouths with all kinds of shoulds, justs and why don't yous.........

Lord, I just wandered like James said I do.

So all of this, the alleged pledge by the high schooler and the irritating proselytizing by relatives and friends on Facebook, have resulted in my thinking that we need a separation of church and Facebook, too.

Or rather, perhaps some common courtesy is in order. Say what you want in your status, but don't be bothered if your friends hide your ass and never respond to you. And follow this basic rule (scratches balls again, because look who's full of unsolicited advice again), if you don't know someone's beliefs, affiliations, etc, lay off sending around anything controversial, political, etc. Seriously, they are as bad as chain emails. And I know that some angel of mercy is now going to pass me by or some horrible tragedy is going to befall me because I'm going against the very idea of chainmail hoodoo, but for the love of Cliff (a variation on my much favored oh for Cliff's sake), why go alienating people? Isn't' life hard enough?

Now, as for that pledge, because I need to wrap this up so I can get back to napping at my desk, let us be clear. I've Snoped the thing for veracity and naturally, it's an urban legend at this point. No matter. The pledge is nonsense. God is allowed in school. It's not like he's a sex offender or anything. (insert offensive joke about priests here)

Students can pray all they want and do, I'm sure. On any given day across the South, at least, students are participating in Christian Athletes events, having prayer circle, etc. There are at least two In God We Trust wall hangings in Garbo's elementary school. God is still mentioned in the Pledge of Allegiance and there's a moment of silence each morning so that kids who are so inclined could certainly say a silent prayer that today is fish stick day instead of beef stew day in the cafeteria.

And, trust me, it ain't easy to be on a sports team down here without being inundated with the Christian religion. Prayers over the team, prayer at practice, at team dinners before a game. It's all fairly common. Most people go along to get along, but if push comes to shove, a case could be made that in order to belong to the team, one feels compelled to participate in group religious activities. You know that forced is another word for compelled, right?

And let me tell you this - where Christianity is very much tied to the culture, the folks here aren't making any attempt to be open to other religious beliefs. God isn't enough. Nope. It's in Jesus's name they pray here and anyone who has a problem with that can get stuffed or go back to where they came from.

According to our laws, however, what is not allowed is the establishment of a religion as The Religion. Forced prayer is not allowed. The teaching of one religion's tenets as a way for life is not acceptable. That does not mean that there isn't plenty of god in school. And cruise down the halls of any middle or high school and you'll probably hear god being invoked in all kinds of colorful ways, too. Even by those kids who go to church and pray over their guns every Sunday.

For more information on what exactly the Separation of Church and State means and doesn't mean, visit Americans United for the Separation of Church and State. The more we educate ourselves, the better we sound when we do go shooting our mouths off, yo.

* Lie. Well, maybe some. The Actor/Ninja says IDK alot.